Drunken Honesty Games
by erijime
Summary: Naeun worked in a chicken stand. Taemin apparently stumbled across it, having two bottles of soju. Naeun joined him after crying and grilling chicken, after his timid invitation. Who knew there'd be soju and a self-made game right when Naeun needed one?


Everything became a spectrum, a world of reflected prism. For Taemin, maybe all that wasn't distorted was the girl that stood on the other side of the perishing wooden counters. Of course, she was grilling chicken. More chicken, and crying. There was a woman shouting here before, shouting at her. Taemin couldn't remember, since everything from the first drink was a whirl of haze – he doesn't need to puke, but he needs to speak out some words – that makes him want to vomit.

But what was ever impossible for Taemin while he was drunk? Nothing. Even if it was a girl, crying, and grilling chicken as the smoke casts twilights to how Taemin sees her. Taemin's fears of long hair and pretty faces, and his short trembles when a person makes him want to speak up and say something, or pat their backs while they're hunched over, wet hands to doll their frowns – though that makes the girl that impossible, maybe she'd be the reason it won't be.

Or the reason he'd regret being drunk, it's always either way.

Her sobs are suppressed, and the people stay chattering, not even minding. The woman, that ajjummha, still hasn't come back. And the apron the woman threw was still on the ground. Maybe that girl's eyes weren't at the chicken, because they stared burning and the smoke became thick. But Taemin could distict her eyes. She was looking down at the apron, not the ground.

Though she tries to make it seem that way. A small subtle hint of pain; Taemin sees things like those.

He wants to vomit again. He already has, he guesses. Because the first words he ever said to the person seeming more lost than him while Taemin was drunk,

"Would you like chicken?" A timid, flat voice, obviously drunk and obviously in need of water than more soju. That was Taemin's voice. Drowsily dreary. Too weird to be accepted. Taemin's voice was _exactly_ like that.

"…Yes?"

Rather than agreement, it was a mutual understanding between broken hearts or sad frown for this start of early September. Rather than beautiful, it was sloppy and lazy.

It was true.

People started to leave, after some time. Taemin was in a confused state; in a daze. Because she said to wait. And whenever he'd try to leave, thinking that the girl threw him off, she'd offer more chicken. More, and more. Until night was rising and it was brighter than day for Taemin.

Then the place was empty, and the apron was still on the ground. The girl never bothered picking it up, but she started picking up plates and glasses, bringing them over to Taemin's table.

The only customer left, the idiot that asked her like a creep for going over for some chicken, Taemin. And where was he? Taemin's table.

The girl sat there, and she dug up three bottles of soju. Actually, those were more than Taemin could take.

"Looks delicious," she smiles. A hefty huff and laugh, her hands handling the wings and breasts to a plate. Taemin was just there, sore and plastered with soju. But he was wide awake, especially his fingers that tapped on the table and his legs that shook. He was still scared of pretty faces.

Pretty faces looked undistorted to him, which what she was right now. While the table and the soju and the chicken were blurred and mixed together, she was the clearest thing he's seen so far.

Clear, (face)

"It's delicious, are you full?"

Clear, (voice)

"I'm grateful that you asked for chicken. Though I cooked it."

And clear. (smile)

Taemin stammers with his breath, an excuse to stall time. To decide whether or not to ask things about her. Taemin guesses Key-hyung would be good at this. Or Onew-hyung, since the girls would usually be the first ones to ask.

But maybe she'd be good at this. She's already asking questions. The only thing that didn't fit, was Taemin. Even though he was older, it's like he's ashamed and so crippled down to minimal – he can't speak. He's drunk.

"You're wondering, right?" She says, greasy lips and visible traces of chicken sauce on either corners of her mouth.

Taemin wants to smile at that, but he can't. He really, really can't. So he stays breathing, and looking, and listening. Though not really looking; stealing glances, maybe.

"You're wondering why I was like that?" She continues asking questions, and at the same time, eating. Her fingers were stuck to the chicken, tightly, and she bit down on it with such strength. That force started to subside slowly, her energy loosening. The firm hold of the chicken in her hands started to release rigid grasps.

Taemin started to be more scared from then on. Because he saw tears, the same ones from earlier but much more rightly adjusted than behind smokescreens. She cried, maybe she was the one drunk.

But maybe Taemin was more than just drunk – he was intoxicated. For God's sake, he's losing it.

"You're the only one that looked at me actually. I don't want to thank you for that since I really didn't want anyone to look at me at that state. But hey," Her voice trembled. Taemin started trembling too. Not just by breaths or by voice that he could barely express.

By eyes that stared at her, out of curiosity that he could never ask about. Taemin imagines how hard it could be not to talk. Not to be able to. He's losing it, surely.

"thanks for noticing, at least." The soju bottles were still unopened.

Taemin tried opening one, but the energy he had for picking up two bottles and finishing them were now gone and in oblivion. To be honest, Taemin can't drink that much. Though when he does, when he has a reason to, he can go all midnight. But he'd spend it more being tipsy and complaining through the phone to Minho-hyung (the least mean hyung) than actually drinking.

"What's your name?" Taemin paused himself from further embarrassment of attempting to open the bottle. Or because he wanted to say something. Even if it's a shapeless phrase, he wanted to say something.

 _Losing it._

 _Maybe that's worth it._

"Taemin… Lee Taemin."


End file.
